


Every Scar A Landmark

by within_a_dream



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Seine, Canon Era, M/M, Scar Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 22:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20454842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: A mapping of scars and an exchanging of stories, set in a comfortable domestic future





	Every Scar A Landmark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagicFishHook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicFishHook/gifts).

Their time together had been one long and slow dance of growing closer step by tiny step, ever since Valjean had eased Javert away from the Seine. He had been forceful one time, to convince Javert to return to Valjean’s house instead of his own rooms or (more likely) back to the riverbank as soon as Valjean left him; he feared that any more attempts would shatter the bond that had grown up between them. And a bond _had_ grown, despite the myriad of reasons each had to distrust the other. It had begun with the two of them taking meals together, once Javert had recovered enough from the shock of his dive that he could leave bed. That progressed to walks in the garden, nominally for the purpose of regaining his strength, and then reading together in the parlor, and then discussing what they’d both read. (Javert had only recently begun to stray from the newspapers he favored to some of Valjean’s books.) Each advance came cautiously, and Valjean was often reminded of the street cats Cosette had tried to tame with morsels of food and a gradual introduction to human contact.

Like a garden sprouting after a cold winter, their mutual cautious tolerance had bloomed into a friendship and a fondness that Valjean hadn’t expected. Along with that fondness had come physical contact – nothing past the point of propriety, at first, but Valjean found he’d missed the casual touches that had left the house along with Cosette.

Their first kiss had been a mutual leap, one sunny day in the garden, a movement in tandem after a shared glance. Valjean had forgotten who first suggested sharing a bed; it made a certain amount of sense, given the nightmares that occasionally troubled them both. They were neither of them youths in the first flush of love, but Valjean found their relationship a comfort, and he thought Javert did as well.

Which was why, when Javert flinched away from him one night as Valjean traced a finger along the scar that ran down his face, Valjean worried.

His worries eased somewhat when before he could even begin an apology, Javert said, "No harm done. I simply don’t understand what you find so alluring about such an ugly mark."

"I find it rather appealing. It gives you a rakish air."

Javert laughed. "Have you been borrowing Cosette’s novels?" He leaned back onto the bed, letting his eyes drift shut. "It was a fight, at the prison. I was too slow in getting out of the way. It’s a particularly visible sign of failure."

Valjean kissed Javert’s face lightly, right where the scar ended. "It’s a part of you, which makes it handsome." He thought of Javert’s reluctance to undress in front of him, which he had put down to modesty, and his own reluctance to let anyone see the marks that his time in prison had left on him. "Do you feel this way about all of your scars?"

Javert scoffed. "I had assumed we both had reasons for hiding the reminders of our pasts."

"There’s a comfort in letting things into the light. I’d like to see you, all of you, if you’ll let me."

Javert hesitated, hand toying with the collar of his nightdress. "Would you do the same?"

Valjean pushed down the vestiges of fear that still bit at his gut at the thought of reminding Javert who he had been, who they both had been. "Of course." He slipped out of his nightshirt. "You’ve seen this one before," he said, gesturing to the mark on his chest.

Never would he have thought, before the months they’d spent together, that he would see a day when Javert looked at the marks of his past imprisonment with shame rather than reproach. Javert reached out to trace it, then removed his own nightshirt in turn.

Valjean felt a heady mix of eagerness and nervousness, despite his conviction that he was far too old to have his heart set aflutter by a night with his love. Judging by Javert’s face, he felt much the same way. Better to both be fools in love, he supposed. He laid his hand over a jagged line on Javert’s upper arm. "This one?"

"A particularly protective dog who set upon me as I investigated its owner’s home." Javert frowned slightly at the memory, then shook it off and brushed his thumb over the scar Valjean knew sat just above the bone of his hip. "This?"

A safe choice, not in a location suggestive of a flogging or the weight of manacles. Valjean thought back to the day he’d acquired it, and smiled. "I was playing at swordfights with my nephew, and he struck me harder than either of us expected. My sister chastised us both for that, him for hurting me and me for indulging him."

"I didn’t know you had a nephew."

"I couldn’t find them after...after." They both knew the great before and after of his life. "I looked, once I could."

Javert looked positively guilt-stricken. He opened his mouth for what Valjean feared would be an apology, but instead said, "We should try again. Perhaps the two of us together would have more luck."

"Perhaps." He could even believe that Javert might be able to turn over rocks Valjean had no access to. He traced a hand down Javert’s chest. "And this one?"

They continued like that until they’d each mapped out the other’s body fully, hesitant touches growing into bold caresses. It took longer than Valjean had expected for Javert to abandon the premise of the exercise entirely and seize Valjean’s cock. In all fairness, Valjean had been doing his best to drive Javert to that point, focusing on the parts of his body that he knew to be the most sensitive while keeping the barest pretense that his mind was solely on Javert’s scars and not his other parts. A man could be allowed his fun on occasion.

He kissed Javert, moaning against his lips. At this point their time together had become less of a fumble and more of a dance, for which Valjean was grateful (he was too old for the thrills of exploration to outweigh the frustrations). Javert knew just how to stroke him, and Valjean knew how to touch him in turn to bring him to the brink. They brought each other to completion slowly and leisurely, and then lay face to face for a few lazy moments before Javert got up with a sigh to fetch a rag (they’d learned after their first time together that giving in to the impulse to fall asleep was not worth the mess in the morning).

"Thank you," Valjean said when Javert returned to bed, kissing the tip of his nose.

"You bared just as much as me." Javert took Valjean’s hand in his. "I never cease to be amazed at my luck, that you found me in the end."

In lieu of an ineloquent explanation of how _Valjean _was the lucky one here in truth, he rested his head in the crook of Javert’s shoulder and whispered, "I love you."

"And I you," Javert answered, settling into sleep.


End file.
